Velvet Thorns Beckoning
by Avataria
Summary: A simple gesture that she believed was a token of affection has turned into a sinister act of obsession. Now, she is faced with a dangerous stalker, someone who will do anything to make her his. SetoxTéax?


**Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh, only the OCs. **

This is my fourth story and is based on an idea I've been playing with for over six months. Now, I know that I have three other stories that desperately need to be updated. I'm steadily working on the others, but university starts again next week, so once again I'm going to be preoccupied. That doesn't mean that I won't update, it just means that I'll have to wait till my three month break which is in November. So I apologise profusely to those of you who have been waiting for updates. It's not an intentional absence, my workload has been a nightmare and at the moment university is top priority.

Altogether, this story will probably be between ten and fifteen chapters in length. I have no intention of extending this fic beyond fifteen chapters, so it will be relatively short.

This will be a dark fic. Although it is rated as T, the rating may be raised, simply because there are some horrific scenes coming up in later chapters. However, I haven't decided how graphic or dark they will be. By horrific scenes, I am not referring to rape or any sexual encounters as such.

_This fic is dedicated to Shinpiteki Aka Vaz. I owed you a story and as promised this is it. I hope it fulfils your expectations and that you enjoy it. _

_Also a big thank you to Lone Gothic who beta-read this for me. _

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**Prologue: Obsession**

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He was watching her again.

She knew this wasn't paranoia or a series of delusions clouding and controlling her mind.

Physically, she could feel his 'eyes' on her. Wherever she went, at all times of the day and night.

His presence was everywhere.

_In the light._

_In the darkness._

_In the shadows._

This was real. Not a figment of her imagination.

Within her mind, she imagined those very eyes; eyes that were filled with an insane combination of predatory lust, desire and unlawful obsession.

A relentless pursuit - where he was the hunter and she was the prey.

Shivers of fear ran down her spine. His behaviour made her feel so dirty.

But it didn't end there.

This 'obsession' as she called it had developed gradually, when the first sign of his affections appeared in her locker at school.

It was difficult to believe that all of this was a consequence of a single blood red rose.

That alone had sparked the beginning of 'his obsession.' An obsession that would progress into a living nightmare.

The moment her cerulean blue eyes reflected glorious blood red and the tips of her fingers touched the soft silky petals, a smile curled across her lips. Those pools of blue dust glittered with a mixture of curiosity and surprise, her face a portrait of pure delight. At first glance, she deduced that this was possibly the work of a flamboyant secret admirer. Beneath the rose, was a neatly folded rectangular piece of white paper, a note that held a message for her eyes only. As she unfolded the glossy sheet, the unmistaken view of thick red ink greeted her vision, the pupils of her eyes dilating as they scanned the secret message. Each word had been beautifully crafted, every stroke detailed to precision. The art of calligraphy was an intricate if not delicate style of writing. She had once tried to learn such a fine art, but its complexity had been difficult to adopt. Together, the sentences composed a mysterious, yet somewhat romantic tone of endearment. It was a beautiful composition.

It was afterward, when she had calmed down and her brain began to think logically, did she wonder how the mysterious rose and note had appeared in her locker. No one knew her combination number, or so she thought. She supposed a hint of suspicion crossed her mind, but the good side of her dismissed the idea. At the time, she didn't believe that were any sinister intentions attached to what she perceived was both a sweet and innocent gesture.

How wrong she was.

It wasn't until the roses arrived at the place she worked and at her home that she grew suspicious. After all, it was one thing to receive such 'tokens of affection' at school, but this was going a bit too far.

Her suspicions were entirely justified.

For with each new red rose, the accompanying notes became less romantic and more obsessive.

Warning bells rang in her head.

This wasn't right.

None of this was right.

She began to ponder the possibility that the roses were from someone she knew. A work colleague, a fellow student . . . or even worse _(she hated herself for even suggesting it)_. One of her friends.

Then again, it could be anyone.

It was a few weeks later that the reality of the situation hit her directly in the face. She awoke one morning to find a blood red rose on the pillow next to her. It was exactly like the others she had received, except there was no note attached. The thought that he had broken into her house and had been in her room filled her with a sudden wave of nausea. He might have gone through her things. Or worse . . . he might have touched her as she slept and she would never know where his hands had touched her.

She'd been dreadfully sick that morning, unable to prevent the bile that rose from her throat at the thought of him touching her. The idea that he had been there in her home, sent her mind reeling in every direction. For all she knew, he was still there and that caused her to dress quickly, her body literally flying down the stairs and out the door,bag draped hurriedly over one shoulder. She went directly to school, desperate to clear her mind of the grim discovery. Throughout the day, she had forced a smile on her face, eager to keep up the cheerful facade she usually wore in front of her friends.

Once school had finished, she summoned the courage to return to the scene of the crime, hoping for the love of god that he still wasn't there, waiting for her to arrive home. Cautiously, she had entered her house, careful to inspect each room and crawlspace; fully aware of the consequences that awaited her if he was hidden somewhere, just waiting for his chance to pounce on her. An hour had passed and no madman had emerged grabbing her by the waist and holding her against her will. Or at least that's what she imagined.

She wasn't sure if he was toying with her or if this was his attempt to get close to her.

She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

A thorough search of the place, had failed to indicate any obvious signs of forced entry. There were no broken windows, no forced open doors, and certainly no shattered glass.

If was as if a ghost had simply passed through the walls and then disappeared into thin air.

Several times she considered calling the police, even once going as far as cradling the phone against her ear after dialling their number. But there was hardly any actual evidence to warrant a proper investigation. There was also the fact of whether or not they would believe her, especially since she had disposed of all the notes and roses weeks earlier. They would probably think it was all in her head.

Instead, she decided to take matters into her own hands. From that day forward, she ritualistically double checked the locks on all the windows and doors every night before she went to bed. She also installed a lock on her bedroom door just as a safety precaution.

She should have known that wouldn't stop him.

And she was right.

Much like the previous encounter, she awoke to find something much worse.

Similar to the stance of a photo frame on her bedside table, stood a very elegant hand-drawn portrait of her.

Each characteristic feature had been drawn to perfection. The pronounced highness of her cheekbones, the soft and sparkling nature of her azure eyes, the delicate curve of her neck, even the tiny dimples on her right cheek had been accurately depicted. It was amazing how the dark strands of loose chocolate hair framed her face beautifully, making her image appear like an angel.

It was a masterpiece. A picture of pure innocence and so life-like.

Looking around her room, a strange feeling developed in the pit of her stomach. Unlike the first time, she got the distinct idea that he might have taken something from her room. He might have rifled through her things - herclothes, her jewellery, her photo albums, her personal items. She spent the entire day searching every draw, cupboard, closet and shelf, determined to ensure that nothing had been taken. Of course, she should have realised what an enormous task she had created for herself and she found it difficult to remember each and every item in her possession. No matter how many times she searched, she was convinced that he'd taken something of hers - assome sort of trophy.

At the end of it all, everything was an absolute mess. And that fact alone was enough to start the waterfall of tears that she had tried so desperately to keep from falling. She was known for being a neat-freak, but one look of her room would tell you otherwise. This was beyond a nightmare.

She sunk to the floor, knees clutched tightly to the middle of her chest like a small child, while her back slumped against the bed. Her breaths became laboured, lungs constricting painfully in her chest, as her throat tightened considerably. She buried her face in her hands, as a swirl of emotions threatened to overtake her. A wave of sobs spilled from her lips, while her hands shook uncontrollably with fear and apprehension. There was only one question on her mind, a question she asked herself many times before. _What did he want with her?_

After the second encounter she took much drastic measures to prevent her nightly visitor from returning. She made sure that all the locks were changed and more importantly she started wearing the keys around her neck. She refused to leave them in her bag as she usually did, in case she accidentally lost them or they were stolen.

But that wasn't all that had changed. She began sleeping with the lights on. Despite the childishness of such a tactic, the light's presence provided some sense of security. However, it did little to reduce the intense dread that had worked its way into her mind. Night after night, she found herself awake for several hours, unable to sleep for fear that he would return to torment her or leave another reminder of his obsession.

The sleepless nights left her physically and mentally exhausted. And it showed. Dark circles appeared under her eyes, like shadows against a solid white background, blemishing her normally pale and translucent skin. She barely kept awake in class, her concentration span about the size of a peanut, even in her favourite subjects. It upset her greatly to know the power he had over her life. To make matters more complicated, her friends were beginning to sense that something was wrong, despite her assurances that she was fine.

She should have known that her voice was hollow when she lied.

Although the others seemed to accept her feeble minded excuses, Yugi on the other hand wasn't easily convinced. He constantly rang her determined to find out what was bothering her. She wanted desperately to tell him. She wanted to be able to confide in him and reveal everything. But the truth was she was afraid.

She was afraid that whoever was doing this was someone close to her and as ridiculous as it sounded, it made perfect sense. After all, the person knew what school she attended, the place she worked at and more importantly where she lived.

Not surprisingly, that was also the real reason behind her secrecy. That was the reason why no one knew of her 'secret admirer'.

She couldn't trust anyone. Not even her friends.

During the whole ordeal, there was one thing that bothered her, besides the obsessive notes and subsequent break-ins.

The roses.

There was a time when she considered red roses to be a symbol of love and passion.

But now . . . in there places were lust and dangerous obsession.

Her instincts told her there was a hidden motive behind his need to give her such a peculiar gift.

Because blood red roses were certainly not normal.

None of this could be considered normal.

That has been the case for almost a month. A fresh blood red red would be waiting for her on her front porchwhen she returned home from school, like some ritualistic offering. And each day she would dispose of them, not wanting to look at, let alone touch any more reminders of his insane infatuation.

Then suddenly they stopped. A month of red roses and then nothing.

Just complete silence.

Despite her misgivings, she had finally thought it was over, that he had let go of this obsession and moved on.

But then she began to feel his eyes on her.

Watching her.

Pursuing her.

That's when she realised the magnitude of the situation.

**Téa Gardner had a stalker.**

**Téa Gardner had a stalker and she had no idea who it was.**

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The chapters following this one will be much longer. The purpose of this prologue is to introduce the situation as it has unfolded and subsequent chapters will detail later events and character interactions. 

Just as a side note, this is not at all like 'Nightmare' by Darkshadowflame or 'Safe with you' by Kokoro Kakera HP. Although the concept and plot might sound similar, that is purely coincidental. I know exactly how the storyline will develop and it's definitely not the same as the stories above.

Constructive criticism is much appreciated, but I will not tolerate any nasty remarks regarding the choice of main character. Also feel free to comment on who you think the stalker is, but for now he remains a closely guarded secret.


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